


Nowhere left

by Dontbetherude



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Intimidation, Malfoy Manor, POV Draco Malfoy, Second War with Voldemort, Werewolves, canon-typical mentionings of cannibalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 23:51:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12641820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dontbetherude/pseuds/Dontbetherude
Summary: Empty, unwavering, stale brown eyes stare at him from the dark wooden table. There is no sign of disease, or even the faintest trace of pain in the corpse's features. Had it not been for the blankly staring eyes he could have been asleep, but he was not, and Draco could not pretend. He had dined face to face with death so many times now it should not faze him...A snippet out of the life of Draco Malfoy during the war shortly before the trio is captured.





	Nowhere left

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I have ever posted so I hope someone will read it and enjoy! Also thank you to heckingard who helped me beta read this.

Empty, unwavering, stale brown eyes stare at him from the dark wooden table. There is no sign of disease, or even the faintest trace of pain in the corpse's features. Had it not been for the blankly staring eyes he could have been asleep, but he was not, and Draco could not pretend. He had dined face to face with death so many times now it should not faze him. It was part of the dinner ritual as much as the gold lipped china and the crystal glasses on their brittle stems. Simple ambiance, like dinner and a show. This night's centerpiece, however, drew Draco's attention like none of the others had before. He knew the kid, although only by his last name: Joyce. One year below Draco in Hogwarts, Slytherin but a mudblood. What a fool, thinking he could return to Hogwarts after the dark lord took over. He should have fled or hid like the rest of them. 

Conversation went on around him, but Draco had learnt that as long as he kept his features in check, relaxed interest, and ate at a polite, slow pace no one would bother with him. Thing was, he had kept his fork and knife still on his plate for too long while meeting the gaze of the corpse in front of him.

“Something bothering you, little dragon?” Greyback, a few chairs down the table opposite of him gritted his yellowed teeth.

Draco kept his gaze firmly on a spot slightly to Greyback's right rather than meeting his gaze as he answered the repulsing man coolly. “Of course not,” he said, and lifted a forkful of steak to his mouth. There was a snort from right beside him, and Draco had to force himself not to flinch.

“I think he's eyed our friend rather hungrily Fenrir.” Rodolphus Lestrange pins him with his dark, half mad gaze and this time he can’t help but shiver. Azkaban takes its toll, he sees the exact same disconnected glint in his father's eye, as if forever stuck on a horror of their own creation, hidden from the view of everyone but them.

“Is that it, little dragon?” Greyback laughed as he stood. “Even in death?” The implications of his words made Draco's stomach turn but he knew better than to play into his little game. It was how they had found out in the first place. He looked down at his plate. Cut, pierce, bite, chew, swallow. The taunting had gotten the attention of the rest of the table by this point however and he could practically feel the red eyes bearing down at him from the head of the table. Shit.

“Draco.” His mother cut in mercifully. “The elves are really taking their time with that wine; will you go check on them?’ she asked, and squeezed his hand gently. Her fingers were cold and heavy with rings. Funny how perspectives change, once he would have thought her elegant and calming, the image of grace.

Draco cleared his throat, grateful for his way out."Yes, mother," he said politely, excusing himself with a slight bow towards the head of the table as he pushed his chair out, turning. Slow, deliberate, he told himself. You are not fleeing - although, of course he was - and every predator around the table knew it too.

“I was just on my way too, my Lord. Have a few snatchers I had better deal with.” Greyback gritted his teeth in a feral grin - an attempt to smile. “See me out, little dragon?” 

After the Dark Lord gave his nod there was really nothing Draco could do other than to lead the way out of the dining hall and show him to the door. Draco squared his shoulders - he would rather not have his back exposed to the man but looking back over his shoulder; giving way to his instincts would not serve him here and Draco could not afford to look weak. 

When Greyback spoke again he was much closer than Draco had anticipated, his hot breath tickled the back of Draco's neck and made his skin crawl. “Did you know him? That mudblood?” he asked; the low rumble of a growl was present in his voice. This man had embraced the wolf so fully it never truly left him. Draco had seen it for himself, watched him kill in his human form, sink his teeth into the tender flesh of some poor muggle or mudblood's neck and groan in delight as blood gushed down his throat. Greyback did not just bite. He consumed.

“No,” Draco said, and he was just as surprised as Greyback when his voice came out steady, even cool. “I don’t associate myself with people like him.”

“People, a rather generous word for scum like that.” The growl was more present now and Draco slowed his step, turning the corner of the hallway and came out to the large foyer where portraits looked down at them from the high walls and their voices echoed just slightly. “Pigs, is what they are.”

Draco shuddered, something that was not lost on Greyback, and he chuckled. Draco was gripped roughly by the scruff of his neck and shoved forward so he doubled over, having to step forward to keep his balance. Greyback was in front of him now, cornering him against a side table, decorated with a bust of one of his many ancestors. It wobbled as Draco leaned back, trying to escape the other man's horrid breath.

“Filthy and greedy. Not unlike your father, or yourself, for that matter.”

“Or you,” Draco said coldly; silence could only get him so far.

“I’m of use to the Dark Lord, what are you?” Greyback hissed, leaning in closer. “Drooling over his discharge at the dinner table…” his clawed hand came up to grip Draco's chin “I bet you’d like a taste, vulture.” It sounded dirty, every word dripping from the cracked lips all too close to his face. Licking his yellow teeth, Greyback drew in a breath. Not just a breath, a whiff. Draco wanted to scream, he should have screamed. In any other situation it might have helped him. “I’d bite you… All that soft skin, pure blood and all. Bet you’d be the sweetest I’ve ever tasted. Only... you’re a bit too old.”

Draco realized he had gone soft back at Hogwarts, with Severus' protection, not even the Carrows would dare saying something like this. They were too far removed from the Manor, and they still carried some respect for his father even if it is just out of old courtesy. Anyone closer to the Dark Lord's court knew that the Malfoys has fallen from his grace, however there is a certain kind of defeat when a werewolf dares look down on him.

“Lost your speech, little dragon?” Greyback let go of his chin and for a moment Draco braced himself, thinking greyback would strike him. The werewolf laughed. “Coward. All bark and no bite.” He underlined his words by gritting his teeth, snapping his jaws together with a sharp click of teeth.

Draco swallowed, and licked his lips. “You are a right fool if you think the Dark Lord is going to give you what you want. Sure, he will let you bite a few mudbloods here and there. Maybe even enough to satisfy your…” Draco hesitated for a split second. Mistake. “Needs-“

“What about your needs little dragon?” He shook his head. “What use is a pureblood who doesn’t want to breed?”

“Fuck off.,” Draco snapped, but there it was, hanging in the air between them. Draco, despite his best efforts, would always be a stain on the Malfoy name, if it even survived his generation. Draco pushed him, shoving the werewolf back. Thank Circe Draco was quick, thank Circe Greyback did not have the balls to kill him, not right in the Manor foyer. Draco drew his wand, jabbing it under his chin.

“Ay, there's the rub.” He smirked, and then the monster in front of him merely tutted at Draco’s attempt to threaten him “But we’ve already established you don’t have it in you to kill haven’t we?” Greyback tilted his chin up tauntingly.

“Didn’t you have snatchers to deal with?” Draco asked, his voice wavering at the end as he watched the werewolf turn his head this way and that beneath the point of his wand before pushing it away. Draco did not raise it again. He clenched it by his side, feeling how his nails dug into the palm of his hand as his knuckles whitened from the tight grip. Greyback’s smirk drew Draco's gaze to his lips again, chapped and dry and entirely too close to him again, as Greyback stepped back into his space.

“Think of me, Draco,” he purred, low and dangerous, mingled with a guttural growl. Greyback leaned in - paused - seeming to think for a moment. Draco braced himself; for a bite or a punch, anything, certainly not this. Clawed fingers came up around his chin again, turning Draco's head - and - pressed his lips to his cheek, the shaggy beard brushing against his skin. The heavy oak door clicked shut before draco could fully process what had happened and Draco was left standing stunned in the foyer.

He walked back mechanically. He didn’t even bother going by the kitchens to yell at the house elves; the wine must have come by now anyways. He returned to the table and took his seat again; he did not not say another word for the rest of the dinner although he felt his mother's worried glances. For the first time, it did not bother him. How had he not realized until now that the threat was real, that his father was not going to come around this time? Draco was on his own. He understood now the path that lays ahead of him, that the scope was going to shift, little by little, until there is no place left for him, or for anyone. Voldemort is not going to be satisfied, even when every mudblood in the world has been done away with, nor when the half-bloods are gone. He is going to go after people like Greyback, half-breeds and half humans. People like Snape with his love for the mudblood girl . Then he is going to go after people like Draco. Potter crossed his mind for the first time in months, wherever he was Draco hoped he was still fighting, even if it was not for him.


End file.
